


Time's new, Roman

by Meshi_Kun



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Frisk, Angst and Humor, Bad Ideas, Character Death, Children, Cruelty to Flowers, Dark, Deaths, Drama, Experimental Violence, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Female Frisk, Flowey is Just a Poor Flower, Fluff, Forced Relations, Frisk is a Sweetheart, Genocide Sans, Grandpa Troubles, Hidden Machine, Lots of drama, Merging Universes, OC Kids - Freeform, Other, Rating May Change, Repenting Gaster, Reppercussions, Sans Has Issues, Sassy Teen, Scientific Explanations, Spatial Anomaly, Tags Are Hard, Time Travel, Timeline Skipping, Underfell Flowey, Underfell Sans, Underfell counterparts, Universe skipping, enough tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meshi_Kun/pseuds/Meshi_Kun
Summary: An Anomaly in time causes two universes, two timelines to collapse into one another. And the Anomaly does not seem to be sated yet. With no hope left for the residents of the said universes, they send their four finest of warriors back in time to ask for help. A sassy teen, a moody kid, a genocidal genius and a frustrated flower.Welp.Did I say the finest? My bad.Did I say send? Oh boy, no.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> So, after reading all these amazing fan fictions out there, I thought why not write one of my own! So here I am! I am new to this fandom, so please be kind. Any sort of constructive criticism will be accepted with open arms so do not hesitate to go ahead and provide some feedback. I would love to hear from all of you!
> 
> Before I begin, I would like to clear a few things for my readers.
> 
> First, this story may get dark at times and may deal with future major character deaths. So if you are not interested or simply do not like to read stuff like that, please skip.
> 
> Second, in my headcannon, Frisk is a female and all the pronouns used for them would be feminine. 
> 
> Third, this story will and does contain SansxFrisk or other ships but will not be overly shippy or fluffy. I am aiming to develop deep relations between all the characters (romantic or aromantic). In addition, the story will majorly revolve around the skele-family and a certain Fell flower.
> 
> Fourth, all the names in italics will refer to the fell universe characters (which may usually be prepositioned with a ‘Fell’ or an ‘Alter’.  
> That is all for now, hopefully! Enjoy and let me know what you think! Will hopefully be updated every Sunday.

**_ Prologue  _ **

_‘Embrace it…my child…’_

His sternum burned. Pangs of heat mixed with tinges of nervousness shot at his bones, beads of sweat trickled down his ivory cervical and wet his fur-lined jacket. The affection had gnawed through his vertebra and now, slowly phased down to his femurs.

_‘You should not run…’_

_“n-no…you cannot…” He ran, gripping his jacket with sweaty phalanges and his mind with dialectics._

_His SOUL pounded in his chest like a strong beat on a dilapidated drum as he ran through the endless Void, trying to escape the testimony of his actions. He had berated himself, repeatedly for bringing in what was lost; after all Space and Time was not meant to be pried into, let alone exploited._

_The shadow loomed over the bottomless pits, cluttered with various portals to places he had not the fortune to explore. Not like he wanted to at the moment._

_‘This…this manifestation is real, my son.’_

_The shadow boomed._

_‘You saved me, son…you saved me…’_

_He kept running, his fibulas threatening to tear apart if he maintained his pace._

_‘You did not forget.’_

“gaster!”

Sans shot up from the hard metallic desk, sweat pooled beneath him; leaving a huge patch of wetness on the white sheets of nights of work. He would have cursed but he was too busy coping with the recent nightmare.

 His breathing was riddled with fatigue and his eyes blank in an ominous foreboding.

“Yes?” The aforementioned spoke, his gentle voice and calmed stature somewhat comforted the short skeleton.

Gaster had turned around from his metallic working table –producing a menacing clink in the process, deeply distressing the other scientists at work- and had stared at his son blankly, not as if he had any emotions he could muster up with a face like his.

Not as if he was not handsome…he just lacked the… _visage._

And the vitality for actually caring about the same.

Much like The Human, he would have pointed out to himself if he were not so occupied with the equations at hand. Or his sons deteriorating mental health.

“ ’m fine.” Sans replied curtly, wiping the sweat from his temples and subsequently cursing at the ink blotched papers on his desk that were wet and dripping from his sweat.

“Is it a-another nightmare?” Alphys asked, turning her head towards the skeleton behind her.

“nah. just a bad dream.” Sans replied, pulling up his lips into his signature goofy grin, “guess i gotta put a lil’ more BACKBONE into what i do.” He laughed, apprehension slicing through his sloppy façade. He had always been so good with wrapping up his feeling in, so why could he not now? Had the RESETS picked on his mental health to such an extent that he had lost all control over his emotions? Or was it the fault of the situation they were in now?

_He wanted to believe the latter._

Gaster frowned, looking back at his neatly scripted equations.

“The Anomaly has been leaving ripples in Time and Space…certainly; it is not the doings of a body…or _bodies_ knowledged in the same.” Gaster monologued, his voice flat and smooth, “But it baffles myself as to why they would merge the universes together…”

“To destroy them of course.” _Alphys_ crisped, scribbling down messy lines of mathematical variables and constantly pressing out creases in her red and black shirt. The maniacal scientist had joined them soon after she had found out that they could not fight the Anomaly or its _army_ alone, they had to work together despite their… _differences in opinion._

The Aberration had not quite come alone this time, were not quite human and certainly not quite friendly. They were shadows, blessed with the strength of at least one-and-a-quarter monster SOULs and certainly, there were a lot of them. However, their lack of fighting skill made up for their numbers.

They guarded the paths, exterminating any weak monsters in their way –they did not dare to touch the strong ones lest they lessen in numbers; and subsequently, in power-. After defeating the monsters, they would absorb their SOULs. Each SOUL absorbed meant more power for them to traverse through Time and Space. And more power meant more _destruction._

The pure nature of the ‘ _Anomaly_ ’ –as they had grown accustomed to call it…or _them_ \- was unknown. The only things they knew were that one very prosaic day a bright light flashed in the false sky of the Underground, following the emergence of the… _Anomaly._

The _Anomaly_ had risen from the grounds; had descended from the skies and had slain everything and anything that lay in their way; destroying houses, ripping away the snow-laden flora of Snowdin town and tearing through the dewed grass of the Waterfall. They had even terrorized monsters, drove them out of their abodes; killed them, even. Prince Asriel had posted all of the Royal Guard to take care of the little business; little had he known…this business was anything but _little_.

Sans had sensed the Anomaly long before its arrival, but with the lack of knowledge about the aberration, he could only blame Frisk or his daughter for the same.

Frisk and his daughter alike, refused to have anything to do with the deviations caused in Space and Time, leaving Sans devoid of any plausible explanation.  Dismissing it to be the repercussion of his degrading mental health, he flashed a strained grin to his family and left for the Laboratory in the Hotlands.

He discussed the matter with Alphys and Gaster later. However, they could only provide so little about what was happening to him. After hours of deliberation, they could only come to one conclusion. The irregularity was caused by a RESET. Sans was reluctant to believe it at first, but finally gave up for the sake of himself and his mind.

_“It has to be a RESET”_

He had told himself. For the first time in life, he actually hoped that either Frisk or his daughter had lied to him.

However, in the wake of the circumstances he faced at its arrival, he was sure it was no doing of a simple RESET. Or even Chara.

It was something far _worse._

And the horrific part had not even begun yet.

Almost a few hours past the _Anomaly_ ’s arrival, another flash of light –albeit darker this time- dominated the sky. The earth beneath the monsters shook as if it were unloading the weights of a thousand years from its back before it lay to a final rest. The river currents in the Waterfall grew turbulent and fierce storm whipped up in the womb of the Underground- the CORE.

After the storm cleared up, hundreds of new monsters had shown up. Not completely new, per say but different. A different version of each monster that sheltered in the Underground had appeared. The _new monsters_ were dressed either in blacks, reds or yellows and were very hostile and confused. Even the surroundings had been mutated in some places. The flurry of green trees just outside Snowdin had been replaced with dying singed ones. The famous ‘Grillby’s’ sign had been replaced by a cooler –quite literally so- ‘ _Chillby’s_ ’ sign.

It did not even take a moment for the former Royal Scientist and his son to decipher the happenings.

Two universes had collapsed into one another.

And they exactly knew which ones.

The _Underfell_ universe residents were baffled, and they had all the right. The time lag had drove many of them to insane killing sprees, many to irritable moods and yet more to depression. The _Undertale_ residents were equally confused and scared of getting hurt by their seemingly savage and heartless counterparts. In the same fear, they started fighting their counterparts, forgetting about the real enemy. The _Anomaly_.

Sans was sure it was their doings. No other monster or human -than a select few he knew- could hold such immense power, let alone be the cause of collapsing universes. A massive amount of energy and SOULs were required to make universes collapse and monitoring the _Anomaly’s_ behavior, he could positively say that they had a hand in it.

The situations had gotten worse in the Underground. The snow was covered with soot, the air with smoke and the atmosphere smoldered with the scent of death.

Sans and the others decided it was time for them to meet their counterparts and ask them to join forces or else more monsters would die and more destruction would be done. Frisk, as always, was the ambassador of their Underground and led them to her _Fell_ counterpart.

The other _Frisk_ , _Undyne_ and _Flowey_ (nobody wanted the yellow flower there to add to their misery; Sans in particular. He had only stopped Gaster Blasting the flower to oblivion when _Frisk_ assured him of the flower’s innocence and had tucked him away, behind her) were more than accepting of their offer but the others…were not very trusting of the proposing party. Especially _Fell Sans, Toriel and_ _Papyrus._ They had refused to help them at first –willing to ‘ _burn ‘em up’_ up even- but eventually gave in, they knew they had to save themselves and the ones close to them, even if it opposed their natural instinct or hurt their vanity.

Pride or not, survival came first.

The former queens of both the universes accompanied by Prince Asriel, sated the masses and asked them to move to the CORE, where they would be guarded and taken care of until the situations got in hand.  Fatigued and hurt, the monsters complied. However, before they could act on the decision. The _Anomaly_ acted up. They attacked, disrupting and scattering the crowds to places beyond the immediate grip of the group. They were only a handful, but the fear that they had etched into the frail monster minds was enough for them to scare the monsters out of their wits.

The group could barely gather a few people before retreating, only _Sans, Papyrus, Undyne_ and their counterparts stayed back to fight away the rest of the _Anomaly._  

Since that day, the group divided in four sub-groups.

 _Fell Sans,_ Undyne and _Fell Papyrus_ were on guard on the paths, dueling any Anomaly in the way. While Papyrus, Frisk, _Fell_ _Undyne_ and _Fell Frisk_ followed, healing and tending to any hurt monsters that had been lucky enough to escape or _win_. _Fell Toriel,_ Asriel and Toriel –accompanied by both the Mettatons- took care of the monsters in the refuge –as they termed it- and tended to their needs.

At last, Sans, Gaster, Alphys and her _Fell_ counterpart took to solving and figuring out a plausible solution to the disaster at hand.

And that is how they were where they were at that moment. Racking their cerebrum for doable explanations for the sudden disruption in Time and Space, and the _Anomaly._

_“To destroy it, of course”_

Sans barely heard the _Fell_ lizard’s deduction, instead, he stared at the steel walls that were scintillated by the soft glimmer of twilight that shone through the semi-draped windows. His mind was blank, not likely of him at all. Sans always had something on the other on his mind, be it worry, anger or puns, he always had something to wrap his attention around. However, today was different. Actually, if he were honest with himself, all the recent days were. They seemed to float by so hazily, so much so that he did not even take notice of the events at times. He recalled this once where he woke up in the dead of the night, proceeding to wake Frisk up –who slept in his room now that she had confessed her feelings to him, and he to her- and asked her what time it was.

He did not miss that flash of caution that struck across Frisk’s face or the lingering worry in her gestures as she held him close that night.

And another time where he woke to a loud sound of a scared gasp, only to be looking at his Gaster Blasters positioned towards Frisk, ready to annihilate her to the depths of nothingness. Their mouths were wide-open with blue wisps of magic crinkling inside, desperate to unleash itself upon the sinner. It had scared Frisk so profoundly that she had broken down. Maybe it was not the fear of dying but the memories that the Gaster Blaster scratched out that resulted in her uncontrollable sobs and violent shaking, he had contemplated later while rocking his mate to sleep. He had held her there for long before she looked at him, and flashed the most determined smile she could muster, reassuring him that she was fine and it was all okay. He had gripped her tighter and had let his frame delve into the soft mattresses, with a giggling Frisk beside him.

Stopping his train of thought before it could indulge into the “ _passionate_ ” exchanges of that night; he turned towards Alphys, who was gesturing to a graph scribbled in her notebook.

“I-I…” she stammered at first, sweat beading her brows, “…was keeping a…uh…track of their energy signatures l-lately…” she continued, fidgeting in her seat; causing her _Fell_ counterpart to frown and tap her foot on the floor in menace.

“T-They seem to be l-losing…” she glanced nervously at her counterpart, as if searching for approval in those hypnotically gyrating spectacles of hers. On the reception of a flat stare, she continued, “…energy constantly…”

Gaster leaned back into his chair, pinning up his chin with his lean phalanges, seemingly lost in thought. His other hand rapt at the desk, clicking a pen in a rhythm that broke the monotony of the gentle screeches of scrawling pens and beeping buttons.

“Of course they would! They are fighting monsters out there. They _will_ lose energy.” _Fell Alphys_ scoffed, crossing her arms against her chest in mild disappointment. For once had _her_ alter felt of use, but as expected she could only pick up postulates and axioms from the sea of abstract. How she even managed to become the Royal Scientist badgered her at moments like these. Then again, that Fluffybuns-King Asgore- could do nothing but make wrong choices; and Alphys was most certainly one of them.

“b-but…” Alphys stammered; sweat dripping down her scales, “the loss is _constant_. For all of t-them…” She completed with a singe of lost confidence in her voice towards the end.

Sans reclined instinctively, “maybe they’re harnessing that energy for somethin’?” He spoke absentmindedly, scratching at his humerus. He so wished for a drink, even a sachet of ketchup would do much for the hammering ache in his head. The pain not only bore physical discomfort but also a threatening presentiment. Something similar to what he would feel during RESETs, although this one was not as piercing and was far more persistent.

“Most certainly.” Gaster brooded. His pen was no longer clicking and his eyes were no longer wandering to his troubled son. He was focused.

Sans knew that look all too well. He would have added to his father’s mental deduction with a few voiced thoughts of his own if it were not for the pain in his head that had escalated to a dangerous buzz. With his quivering phalanges, he gripped the corner of the sharp metal desk. He had to excuse himself out of the room.

However, before he slid in a tactful pun and made a run for fresh air (he had not needed much air earlier, but at the moment, the air had felt thick and stick with humidity, and his bones had seemed to sodden from the same.) Undyne staggered in, clutching her right leg with a painful clasp; the neck of her black blouse soaked with sweat and her hair rustled to a shaggy mess.

Her breathing was nipped with exhaustion and her eyes narrowed in grieve. If not for Sans’ eye-socket for details, he would have missed the tears that had brimmed up in her eyes, blurring the amber of her orbs.

Sans’ breath stuck in his throat as he looked at the panting fish, his ‘pupils’ contracting to invisible pinpricks as he waited for her to speak.

“Sans…Papyrus…”

He clenched his fists, the tips of his bony phalanges scraping against his metacarpals in unsaid trepidation.

“…Papyrus has _fallen_.”


	2. Desperate Desolations

Sans stared at the snow on the ground. For long; too long almost. Blue magic lashing about his left eye, flickering out of existence ever so often. How could he have not seen that? Not known about the cruel fate his brother was going to be subject to? How could he have been so distracted? So lost? 

He clutched the soft red scarf in his hands, feeling the smooth fabric under his phalanges. He could almost feel the smell of freshly cooked spaghetti waft up his boney nose. Could almost hear the poor flour condiment being stuffed into the metal pan, could almost hear the subtle bubbling of water, could almost hear the brutal smashing of tomatoes, could almost hear the violent stirring, could almost hear his brother’s voice calling out for supper…

_…could almost hear himself screech in agony inside._

Frisk looked away. Tugging at her stripped sweater and pulling it lower. The atmosphere suddenly felt freezing but at the same time felt scorching, making her skin tingle from the extreme sensations; it was as if someone had plunged her into the subzero waters of  Snowdin and then threw  her in the Hotlands. Her brown locks veiled her face, her fingers trembling in unvocalised pain and despair. Tears had streaked her light mocha skin, leaving trails of regret and anger behind. She felt pain course down her weak body and flash in her pulse, she had lost someone precious. Someone not close to her heart, but, to her SOUL. 

Her eyes had unknowingly drifted away from the grey on the ground and to her mate. He needed comforting, but Frisk knew better. What he needed was some time alone. With a soft pat on his shoulder, she backed off. He did not acknowledge the gesture in the slightest, he just stood there. Unmoving. Frisk deviated her gaze to her feet, her toes squirming in weak virulence in her heavy fur boots. She stood behind Sans; being there for support should he fall.

_But he did not fall._

_He did not cry._

And that is what troubled Frisk.

 _Fell Sans_ cocked his head away. He had seen deaths and had delivered some too –a _lot_ , actually- but seeing his ‘ _brother’s_ ’ ash on the ground made his hardcore shield flinch a little. A deep-seated feeling of grieve had settled its slithering tentacles on his SOUL, weakening him to the point of actually wishing to comfort his alter-self; for once pulling his shield down…for once…

_…letting go._

Undyne breathed. Her scaly fists tightening to contain the cyclone of rage that only seemed to grow stronger the more she looked at her fallen comrade, or whatever had remained of him. Her eyes burned from the tears that had started to blur her vision to a worrisome stage, but she did not mind. She wanted the truth to be blurred, to be distorted so that she did not have to face what lay before her. _The reality_. 

Her mind raced through events, through times she spent with the lanky skeleton. His awful cooking, and his equally awful gullibility. She would have laughed, out loud, without restrain, if it were not for Alphys sobbing into her ashen blouse. Her sadness had started caving into resignation, her strength into weakness and her strive for vengeance into a feeble attempt to keep her body from collapsing. And her feelings too, maybe. 

 _Fell Papyrus_ stared at the ground. His eyes boring into the snow laden earth as if searching for answers to the mysteries of the world, or maybe to the miseries. He had witnessed his own death. Not like he would have lowered himself to the other skeletons’ standards but it was _him_. It was _him_ on the ground, reduced to an unceremonious pile of soot; it was _him_ who had taken the easily evadable hit for a puny, inconsequential, heedless Froggit. Even so, when his HP was so low that even a fall could surrender him to eternal sleep. What a bonehead, _Papyrus_ would have complained if only his counterpart had not whispered his parting words to all but him.

_‘Take care of Sans…please…’_

_Papyrus smiled, his jaw quivering in the rebound of the acceptance of his end._

_‘Please.’_

_He whispered. Crumbling to dust soon after._

_Fell Papyrus_ stiffened, his phalanges digging in his lowers as the memory replayed in his head in a turbulent tribulation, which had presently started to shimmer into a dull headache. 

Sans had seen his brother die so many times by now that even if he wanted to, he could not summon tears or even a desperate scream. His dreams had tortured him enough, enough for him to regard the reality as another nightmare. Enough for him to just… _stay_. Stay silent, stoic…unaffected when the nightmares transformed into the unavoidable truth. 

The only person to make a move out of the seven was the Doctor.

Gaster scooped up the ashen snow with the benignity of a bishop, the tenderness of a mother and the security of a father. He tied up the leather satchel and had gently begun tucking it in the depths of his dimensionless cape. 

“stop.”

Sans spoke, his voice a shrill mix of anger and misery.

Gaster held his gaze. His hands froze in place; not in fear, mind you, but in subtle anger. 

He had lost his son.

“give my brother back” Sans stretched his metacarpals out taut, demandingly staring at his father. His simulated emphasis had made Gaster frown; they were a family and Sans seemed to forget that ever so often.

“He is my son also.” Gaster declared, moving his lifeless orbs to stare straight into his sons’ blank ones. He knew that look. 

“give papyrus back.”

His son was enraged. His eyes crackling with leashed magic.

He had faced his anger.

_And it had never gone well._

Gaster looked at his son, knowing full well of his next move. 

Sans’ left eye flared to life, roars tearing through the tense air as the Gaster Blasters nipped into existence, their mouths ablaze with lisping tongues of blue magic. 

“then…get dunked on.” He growled, gesturing his primary phalanges to his victim. Someone was going to have a really _bad time_. 

But before Sans could marvel at his direct hit, a huge flare of energy countered his advancing ones, pushing back the beam of hot plasma into non-existence.

“stop both of ya” A gruff voice interrupted.

Sans’ empty glare instantaneously –and albeit dangerously- set on his counterpart’s hefty form. His alter-self was no one to meddle in the matters that involved him or his family; or any matters at all. He was an outsider, and had certainly not the same ideas Sans propagated. He was Sans, but _sans_ morality. 

“if ya guys start fightin’ among yerself, we’ll lose more than what we’ve gained” Fell Sans looked at Gaster, “‘nd gaster…keep yer wingy-dingy hollows off pap” He completed, furnishing the Doctor with a hash, hateful glare.

Honesty, _Sans_ just wanted to punch the older mutation into extinction, flinging him away from himself and his brother. But he brushed the thought away, judging a punch to be a shallow wound compared to what he had inflicted on him, on _Papyrus...on them._  

Gaster held his ground, dismissing the sizzling ball of magic that had hissed in his hand; for his own protection had he summoned it, not to hurt his son. He would never do that; not to his own offspring… _not now,_ _at least_. 

It was true. Gaster had used his sons as rodents in his experiments, exposed their vulnerable monster forms to precarious amounts of Determination, had watched the metal desk rattle voraciously from the struggle of his bound sons, and had heard them call out each others’ names in a painfully saccharine tone. He had done them much wrong, and now he wanted forgiveness, he yearned for acceptance and…

_Mercy._

* * *

 

Knock knock.

Toriel clenched her padded fists, subsequently running them over her silky fur, her eyes trained on the metallic floor of the core. She did not want to answer.

“Who's there?” 

But she did.

“radio.” 

“Sans…don't…” her eyes pricked with tears, and her paw shakily placed on the metal door. She could feel Sans’ magic swirl, flicker and sink, and then rise again; like the turbulent waves during a sea storm. And if Toriel had not known better of her friend, she would have lowered his mental state to just that-an approaching tempest. 

“that’s not how you play along.” Sans’ voice cracked from the other side, his magic flaring intensely. 

Toriel stood up slowly, pushing her padded paws against the door for much needed support. She gently touched her furred forehead against the door, relishing in the soft warmth it emanated before proceeding to open the door.

She saw the same grin she was used to seeing. The same mask plastered on his face, the mask of happiness; unaffectedness. She only could wonder how much he had held in, how much he had suffered and most importantly…

_for how long._

Toriel wasted no time bending to the short skeleton and pulling him in a warm, familial embrace. Tears wet her cheek fur as she felt Sans gently wrap his arms around her back, clutching tenderly at the fabric of her dress. 

“i failed papyrus.” 

“No you did not, Sans. You never did. He loves you and you love him. Papyrus is happy wherever he is now…and he would not like to see you like this. He gave up his life for another, like a true guard. Like a true warrior. Do not disrespect him like this.” She stroked his head with her paws, similar to how she would stroke her son or… _Chara_ to sleep, gentle soft brushes along the length of their heads. They always worked.

His breathing softened, as he stayed in the embrace for long, not for too long, however. He pulled away; his smile had washed away, a forlorn expression dominating his ivory contours. He had felt so much better then; his soul had gathered a steady yet lethargic pace and the magic churning inside him had sobered to soft ripples.  

“Should not you be with Frisk now…?” Toriel proceeded with modulated caution as her gaze drifted to the side, only to see a very emotionally torn Frisk peeking from behind the wall, her sleeping son strapped to her back protectively. The child was fairly human, his dark brown hair and light blue eyes and childish treble fascinated Toriel, but she had guessed he could wield magic similar to his father’s. She had even helped Frisk and Sans pick a name for the child; Roman, they had decided after much deliberation and puns, of course.

She had remembered the soft smile on Frisk’s face that day, but now she could only see somber depression painting her visage.

Toriel could tell she was as hurt as Sans. And she had all the right. Papyrus had been with her through all the tough times. He had helped her with the nightmares that claimed her when Sans was busy coping with his own. He had her back when she chose to stay in the Underground and bring Asriel back. He had cried with her in bad times and had laughed with her all the same in the good ones. 

Sans hesitated for a moment, “uh...i’ll get back to her. i just needed some time alone with my sansational pun buddy, tibia honest.” He continued, his voice lingered of unassertiveness, which was quickly replaced with a relaxed laugh.

Toriel smiled softly, “I'm glad you are feeling better.” 

Pushing his carpals deeper into his hoodie, he turned away and towards Frisk’s peeping spot. Making the latter quickly retreat. He had felt her soul resonate with such ferment, so many complex humanly emotions he had yet to decipher were swirling in her soul. He had to talk to her, very soon. 

“me too. thanks, tori” he lazily raised his left hand and walked away. His mind seeming to work so much better now. He still felt that gaping hole that his brother’s demise had caused in his heart, but instead of giving up this time, he felt like trying again. Only if he could turn back time and prevent all of this…all of the _Anomaly_...

Suddenly, an idea struck him –it had been a long while since one struck him this intensely-. It was a risk, a humongous one at that, but he was willing to take it. He had to fix the time machine. Go back in time and fix all of it. Prevent all loss. 

He _just_ had to go back in time to fix all the mess he could have prevented. It was perfect! 

The perfect idea! 

_Only if he knew... the most perfect of ideas have the most **ghastly** of repercussions._

_Quite so, literally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well…here goes the first chapter! Just another build up. I hope you like it! As always, reviews are welcome (and adored) and so is constructive criticism! Stay awesome, I love you guys!


	3. Butterflies

**_ Chapter 2 _ **

**_Butterflies_ **

“Nu huh”

The teen narrowed her eyes in distaste as she looked at the dimly lit Ranunculus. Her light brown orbs glistened under the moonlight as she held the flowerpot close to her bosom and tiptoed out of the CORE hallway, which had been recently reduced to a common bedroom for all the refugees. The monsters were huddled close in groups, scanty blankets over their bodies and torn mattresses underneath. Some monsters had even elected to stay up on guard for the nights, switching shifts in the duration.  Usually the ‘ _sentries_ ’ would be monsters from the Royal Guard, or other stronger monsters from the Underground.

And that was a huge problem for the teen.

“Argh, Flowey.” The teen groaned in annoyance, paying great attention to keep her voice barely audible. The last thing she wanted was to wake up her parents or any other monsters that would possible tell on her _nightly outings._

“Don’t ‘ _argh_ ’ me, _Helvetica_. You know if you break into Gaster’s lab right now, there’s a good hundred percent chance that you would run into the _other_ Smiley Trashbag. And boy, he does not like us in the least. _Especially, me_.” The flower strained, its petals drooping in exasperation. This girl was unbelievable. In the most literal sense, that too.

“ ’ _Only’ you.” Helvetica_ corrected, barely managing to _not_ trip over an outstretched monster limb in the process, “I’m pretty darn sure he’ll have no grudge against his counterpart’s daughter.” _Or will he?_ She had not a shade of an idea.

Continuing on her _perilous_ journey through monster appendages and tattered blankets, she looked straight ahead, realizing the growing heat from the magma that flowed beneath. They were

_Close_

She tiptoed towards the large metal door.

_Closer,_

Placing her hand on the said door, she gently pushed it forward, letting the bright orange grace the dark corridor.

_Yet closer_

To Gaster’s lab now. Finally, she would be able to fix everything. She would undo the entire Anomaly. However, she was not so certain she would be able to run the time machine with her limited knowledge, but she had to try. Back in her own universe, the lab was second home to her. She had spent her time studying RESETs, magic and other physical phenomenon, _especially_ time travel. Only so she could fix that broken time machine. She had always wanted to make her father proud, to have him acknowledge her not as his daughter, but as a person of worth. She had wanted for him to pat her on the head, recognizing her merit… _for him to let her help him to be happy again._

And that thought did nothing but _fill her with DETERMINATION._

And of course, she could always ask her _Grandfather_ for some help. He would not refuse her.

_Right?_

“Well…The lab should be close now.” _Helvetica_ smiled big, looking down at her apathetic flower confidant as she agilely slipped through the CORE doorway; _thank stars,_ only the Doggi were on guard. Those blind, nicotine addict fluff balls could not ‘ _lookout_ ’ for their lives. But who was _Helvetica_ to complain? Their presence had only made her elope easier.

_‘This better be good.’ Flowey_ heaved a mental sigh. _Helvetica_ was _Fell Sans_ and _Fell Frisk_ ’s daughter. And sadly, had picked up all the traits of the former –much to all three’s aversion-. She had retained the human form from her mother however, and almost all of her features except the eyes. And that was the worst part.

She had irises as white as snow, and the fact that they were as big as a doe’s was no help either. It clashed with her skin tone so violently that _Flowey_ avoided eye contact at all times. Her eyes were like a dollop of cream…

_…a dollop of vicious ferocity._

He would not have cared as much if she were just a little gentle on him…or anybody else. She was akin to a messenger from hell, vicious, stubborn and bound to bring destruction to whichever land she treaded.

_How Flowey hated her._

“Sans should not be a problem…” _Helvetica_ mused as she waddled through the dirty-orange grounds of the Hotlands. However, on closer inspection, one could see a thin layer of ash veiling the path; strewing the ground with a portentous premonition. _Flowey_ swore he even heard a soft giggle, but dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind.

“Yeah, right. He’ll tell _our_ Smiley Trashbag and _Frisk_ without a second thought. That would not be a problem to a brat like you, of course. Moreover, what do you plan on doing in the lab anyway?” He snorted, almost casually. He knew _Helvetica_ , _too well_ for his own comfort, and the fact while she did have the _DETERMINATION_ to carry out complex tasks, she did not quite possess the vivacity to physically implement the same. And so, worrying about what _work_ she might have in the lab should be the _last_ of his _concern._

_He was being flowernapped, for petals’ sake!_

_He was beginning to wonder if the whole ‘ **napping** ’ thing ran in her blood._

_Helvetica_ –on the other hand- stiffened almost immediately, _too_ immediately.

_He can’t know. He’ll try stopping me. I can’t stop right now._

Quickening her steps to nervous, childish skips, she moved further away from the core, feeling the blue hue of the CORE leave her back and the bright yellow of MTT resort greet her face. And suddenly she regretted _every_ thought that had led her to that decision.

An uncannily cold wind slapped her face as she pushed the metal doors to the resort’s lobby. Cold winds in Hotlands were as abnormal as her father _not_ napping at work. Just to reassure her racing pulse, she blamed it on the air conditioning; monsters had seemed to like the cold much better than the cozy anyhow. Tentatively, she trotted over the dusty carpet on the floor, her eyes trained on the leaking fountain that dripped of not water, but of monster remains.

“Are those claw marks…? I think…something died in here.” _Flowey_ started, his petals drooping in unsaid fear. _Helvetica,_ quivered slightly. That awful statement etched into her brain so painfully, playing itself in an unending loop.

_Something died in there, and so could they._

Her eyes almost found themselves on the ground, tracing a thin trail of slime to an upturned metal bucket. A sharp chill ran down her spine. _What was all this?_ Her soul felt heavy, as if it had been loaded with a hundred ton weight and her lungs felt heavier; the air was thick, humid and viscous, it was becoming increasingly hard for her to keep breathing. Even her back ached dully, as if someone had been staring at her the whole time.

_Bad_ _things_ had happened there. And _Helvetica_ was not as delusional to think she would not be subject to the same.

“Oi. Flowey…” she scrambled for the right words as she accelerated her pace, “You still have those…uh… _friendliness bullets_?”

“ _Pellets.”_ _Flowey_ corrected, pulling his manifested lips down in a frown, “Yes, I still have those. Why do you ask?”

“We might need them if we ever come across the Anomaly.”

“ _Oh fuck no_.”

Helvetica pouted, poking his prickly stem –also making a mental note to not do it ever again-, “You literally have to protect both of us, or else…” she started rather loudly, her voice depressing into a quite whisper as she went on.

Her eyes sparkled and almost instantly, _Flowey_ regretted his poor choice of words.

_“I’ll rip you phloem by xylem…and let the Lepidoptera **suck** on your nectar…agonizingly slowly...”_

“Your… _knowledge_ of the plant anatomy…worries me. And its use in highly _suggestive_ statements.”

The flower looked away –not wanting to encourage more death threats-, noticing the torn curtains, cracked windowsills, wilting plastic plants and dusty, moth-eaten couches. He could feel the heaviness in the air, the magic. It was riddled with sorcery of such different kinds; _Flowey_ swore some of it was not even the courtesy of monsters, and that only made him want to disappear from the resort as fast as he florally could.

However, soon his worries waned as they stepped back in to the familiar –and comforting- warmth of the Hotlands. The balmy air seeped deep into his epidermis; he was glad that they were out. _So glad_. Perking up again, he looked beyond the dirty path, looking at the pale orange building that loomed in the distance.

“I want to access Gaster’s time machine.” _Helvetica_ spoke after a long moment of silence; her voice was flat, differing from her usually animated tone. A soft after tone and clank followed the words, but was inaudible enough to catch the attention of either.

“ _What?!”_ The buttercup exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise and slight cognizance. He was not very fazed, somewhere inside, he had expected her to pull an antic like that, and somewhere...he had wanted her to do it too.

_Nah, not really._

Nevertheless, he could pretend to, right? In his defense, it was the last of his faults for being as callous as he was. He could not feel love, and _golly, was he glad._ Looking at his _bare ‘partner’,_ he started, unhurried and careful.

“I know what you want to do, ‘Vetica-” _Since when had he started calling her that?_ “…Helvetica.” He corrected, continuing gravely, “But not only is it life threatening but also has slim chances of success. So, let’s go back to the CORE, while you’re at it, get me some fresh mud. My roots feel overly stiff.”

“ _Flowey._ ” She pressed, looking at him with those horrible eyes, “I have to do this. I…Papyrus died…someone else could too. And if I do this…” She stopped.

He noticed the irresolution in her gaze and the slight fidget of her hands.

“Kid…”

_Silence._

Her breathing quickened, sparks of light blue magic hissed in her palms.

“ _Kid.”_ He stressed, his non-existence brows corrugating.

_Silence._

“I-I think…something’s following us.”  She squeaked, after what seemed like a century, “Please… _please don’t tell me it’s them…_ ” She whimpered softly, clutching the flowerpot close to her chest.

Taking all the burden of the humongous task on his cellular, fictional shoulders, he slowly, _very slowly,_ peered behind the teens’ side.

And boy, what he saw was worse than _them._

_“Oh fuck no.”_

“Hoi! Flouer!” The little boy giggled, reaching his little, ashen hands at him. He blinked his dark green eyes repeatedly, tilting his small chubby head to the side. He was sitting on the ground, his short legs stretched before him. _Flowey_ could see the green slime wet the knees of his dark brown rompers and the dusty handprints on his white undershirt.

“Roman?!” The human had turned around, her eyes widened in surprise, “what are you doing here?” without delay, she took off to the little child, holding him up with her free arm. The child just tried grasping at the flower –who tried his best to keep away-, murmuring inane words in his childish treble.

“This kid…followed us all the way...wow.”

“uh…but what do we do now?!” The older girl fretted, looking around frantically. Sweat manifested her forehead and slowly dripped down the sides, “We can’t return him! They’ll find out if we do!” She drawled, her eyes darting around, as if searching for answers.

It was funny how her serenity and seriousness spiked to paranoia in mere seconds. He wanted to laugh, but he resisted. They had to think of what to do with the kid at hand, _literally so._ The last thing he wanted was to deal with _his_ parents _too_. The Smiley Trashbag already hated him so much.

_They could not go back._

“What do we do? What do we do?! We can’t take him back!” _Helvetica_ repeated, Roman giggled and _Flowey_ … _Flowey_ _thought_.

“It’s simple…if we can’t return him…”

A crooked smile graced his pale ‘ _face_ ’.

_“...we’ll take him.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Leave a comment, it means a lot!


	4. Overridden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a little asthetic and logic development here! Hope you guys like it. And yeah, if ya'll are confused, don't be. Things will get cleared as the story progresses.

* * *

**_Chapter 3  
Overridden_ **

_Helvetica_ sprung from the light tug at her hair.

“I don't think it was overly wise to…bring Roman along…” she started, lightly getting the younger mutant to let go of her locks. Roman just giggled in response, his lips puckering up in concentration as he presently tried to interweave his chubby fingers through her chocolate brown hair, pulling painfully at it in the process.

“So you'd rather we had handed him over to his parents?” The top of _Flowey's_ androecium raised questioningly, “we'd both be grounded for that. And trust me, I'm **_grounded_** enough to like that.” He gestured to his pot.

“Yeah.” She whispered, giving in to the other mutants’ molestation of her hair. She let her eyelids close and sighed. It was a bad idea…but she could not turn back now.

_Flowey_ just started straight ahead, not wishing to acknowledge the bubbling excitement for something he just recently had _denied_ the consent to. He was absorbed. In thinking. He had not been much of a thinker in any of the timelines, and he would never be one in the future either. It was just the thought of getting scattered through time and space was not the most appeasing one.

He had heard of _Gaster_ and all his _**Timey**_ Shenanigans, and the fact that there was no VIP treatment for poly-souled creatures like himself. And once that he had, _**LOAD** ing_ and _**SAVE** -ing_ became a great deal harder.

Even he was aware of the repercussions time travel brought hand in hand. He should have been scared, _terrified_ even. He was _flower-napped_ , death threatened and subject to possible scattering through Time and Space all in _one fucking day_. He should have been _bothered_ at least.

But he was not. _Not one bit_. His belief in _Helvetica’s_ incompetency to successively execute plans outweighed his fears of disintegration into pixie dust. And so, he keep shut. Revelling in the thought of giving her a piece of his mind later.

When no yelps dominated the still atmosphere, _Flowey_ knew _Helvetica_ was staring at him. She did that so often. Too often for comfort. She would stare at him for hours and hours. At first he had thought she just harboured a silly fascination for him. It was not everyday she would meet a talking flower.

_“Stop staring at me, you weirdo.” The buttercup fussed finally, his androecium wrinkling in disgust . The teen had been staring at him for an hour or so now and it was bugging the sepals out of him. Not wanting to meet her horribly ugly gaze, he just looked away. He never liked her eyes._

_She still started, blinking those grotesque ivory eyes at him and subsequently jotting down a string of incomprehensible letters in her small notepad, “Subject shows signs of borderline intermittent explosive disorder, may also exhibit occasional narcissism. Also seriously needs a nose job.” She spelled out loud, loud enough for the flower to hear and successfully lose his shit._

He was almost prepping a berate, shifting his eyes to the taller mutant he cleared his ‘ _throat_ ’.

“You wi-“ but he stopped. She was not staring at him and that look in her eyes, so familiar…so… ** _DETERMINED_**... _oh_ _fuck_ _no_.

She was **_SAVE_** _-ing_.

Her white orbs were trained at the pale orange building that seemed to have scooted closer with her each step. Trailing her gaze down to the soft levitating sparkle she smiled, a **_SAVE_** point. Finally. She did inherit her mother’s ability to **_SAVE_**. She had been itching to see a **_SAVE_** point, to experience a **_SAVE_**.

She had recalled, from a blurry memory wedged deep within her childhood, that she had studied about _**SAVE** s_. Very briefly although, her father was not overly keen for her to delve deeper into the said subject. And she, with due time, had lost her interest in _**SAVE** s_... _until her mother told her about Flowey._

_Complex schematic diagrams decorated her worn notebook, most of them were just a detailed breakdown of the floral anatomy and the others just funnily sketched caricatures. Helvetica had been studying the flower in private -not really though- and had been solving equations, drawing graphs and deriving conclusions to work out how he could manipulate the **SAVE** s and **RESET** s._

_She had even sought for help and was surprised at Alphys’ reaction when she had first asked her to tutor her in botany. The lizard had agreed, after much begging, however. Her times at the lab were pleasant, she could go around, read lab entries and look through Alphys' experimental blueprints or data. Alphys and herself were not very close, she only conversed with Helvetica when it was absolutely necessary or when she was teaching her._

_Alphys was strict, but was never very secretive, but there were times_ -as Helvetica recalled _\- when the lizard surprised her. Like when she had refused to let her use the ‘bathroom’._

But now she knew what secrets the ‘ _bathroom_ ’ veiled. And how utterly important they were proving to be at the moment. All what she had learnt was going to be put to test soon, and all what she wanted to experience was right before her now.

Without another thought, her palms cupped the incorporeal glimmer, the cool sinking deep into her skin, electing a slight shiver. She looked at the building before her again, the magma flowing beneath casting a soft glow on its humongous form.

And the scene did nothing but _fill her with **DETERMINATION**_.

The cold flooded her being, tugging at a string of memory rooted deep inside her head.

_The snow crunched beneath her feet as she raced home, her eyes sparkling in delight. She clenched the faded crimson scarf closer to her cold lips as she knocked on the door behind her wooden house._

_“Father! Father!” She fizzed giddily. Her knuckles hurt from the constant knocking, acquiring a white undertone after a few raps, “I think I-I…” she hesitated. This was a sensitive topic for her father, she knew of it. But she had to share her discovery, or at least her part-discovery, with her father. She wanted to help him._

_She rapped again._

_“I-I was thinking…uh…” she began, trailing off in uncertainty. She did not even know if her father was inside or if was just pretending not to be. Pulling her scarf over her quivering lips, she tried again, “ maybe the **RESET** s can be imagined as…uh…blackholes...a depression in space-time…when we reset…we don't…g-go back in time…we just abandon that timeline…maybe that’ll fix t-the…machine…I can...father, I want to help but…I can't figure the rest out…” She waited, patiently. Twiddling her thumbs and shuffling her feet. Disappointment flared through her being, she sounded so weak._

_“’vetica.” She heard her father’s husky voice click behind her. Almost instantly, she turned around on her heels, her face flushed from the cold and the embarrassment._

_“what are ya doin’ here, kiddo?” He leaned against the wooden walls, stuffing his gloved hands deeper in his pockets. He did not seem pleased. At all._

_“I j-just...” she stuttered, rubbing her elbows. The courage drained out of her veins as her gaze met his blank one, “I…I was just passing by…”_

_The pinpricks of light in her father’s eye socket blinked into existence, “i thought so too.” He walked towards her, lazily raising his hand and patting her on the back, “pap’s gone pasta way to recreate jello-spaghetti just for you.” He chuckled, but it felt strained. Forced even._

_“Father…”_

_“Now now, ‘vetica.” He whispered, “if you keep up with your curiosity…”_

_Her throat went dry as she froze._

_**“You're gonna have a Bad Time.”** _

Whatever her father’s reasons for threatening her like that were, she was sure could get away with it. And if she did everything right, her father would forgive her.

And that thought did nothing but _fill her with **DETERMINATION**._

**_And maybe a horrible premonition._ **

The air clicked with the familiar sound of a successful **_SAVE_**.

* * *

 

Their smile widened, their red eyes snapping open. Waning lights of the void sparkled against their pale skin. Binary digits whizzed to oblivion, whipping up a strong gust in the empty dimension. Ones and zeroes whirred past the small glowing figure with such grace.

_Primary game variable initialised._

“ _Gaster_ …” They giggled, their saccharine voice echoing through the emptiness. Reverberating against imaginary walls.

_Compiling logic gates._

**_“_ Human _.”_**

_Overwriting **SAVE** state._

_Cleaning slate._

They floated closer to the tall figure that loomed over them, short bursts of desperate giggles escaping their bloody lips. Crumpling their bloody green sweater in hand, they pulled their face up in a static smile.

_Invoking…_

_Linking_ …

_Link successful._

_Invocation complete._

“IT SEEMS THE GAME IS NOT OVER YET.”

* * *

 

_Flowey_ just stared at her this time.

“What the fuck did you do, brat?! A-And how!?” _Flowey_ grizzled after what seemed like a century of silence, “You not only overrode a pre-existing **_SAVE_** but probably also invoked the game!” He growled. _It was a bad idea_.

A bad idea to let her curious mind wander.

How could she have saved…? The game was over two decades ago, and with it were over the memory manipulation abilities. Then how could she have…? Did she really…invoke the game? Again? Would the world just _**RESET**_ now? _Flowey_ had no idea. Though, the only one thing he knew was, whatever she did was not good. At all.

_Helvetica_ stood still, her breathing heavy from bulky feeling of **_DT_** pulsing through her body. Her mind raced through memories.

“What have you done?!” The Ranunculus’ voice ringed in her head like a loud foghorn, making her wince in pain. Slowly, she placed Flowey’s pot on the ground and sunk to her knees, letting one of her hands prop her body up and the other keep the quiet Roman in place. A sharp pain seared through her **_SOUL_**.

“ _Flowey_ …Encounter…” she breathed, her eyes prickled with hot tears.

The flower complied without hesitation, pulling her into an encounter.

Her inverted soul burned a bright, blazing red. Flowey knew her heart was not supposed to be red. It was a smudged mixture of red and white, courtesy of _Frisk_ and _Sans_ respectively, but now…it was red. _Blood red_.

Her breathing quickened as she looked at her floating _**SOUL**_ and showed no sign of dissipating or even lessening in intensity. _She had done fucked up this time_.

_She should have listened to her father._

And it dawned upon her. The game was over, the ending already saved…and now she had just spoiled it. She had _overrode_ it. _Oh boy_.  
  
**_She was in for a Really Bad Time._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really think there should be an 'Oh fuck no' count for Flowey.


	5. Don't Leaf, Bud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. We'll see a bit of Goat Bro in this one! Beware, he's...spiteful lol

Her _**SOUL**_ ached, a piercing pain scintillated through the feeble cracks along the length of the deep red mass that hung a few centimetres above her chest. Its waning glow illuminated her vicinity ever so slightly, blending with the soft tangerine already hanging in the atmosphere. The pseudo sky had washed away into dusk, letting the bright orange magma beneath light the way. The orange hues streaked up to the sky, melding away so softly. It reminded _Helvetica_ of the Arora borealis. The bands of light she had only the pleasure of seeing in _Alphys’_ old books about the Aboveground’s night sky. She had wanted to see the night sky. Aboveground’s night sky…

And maybe now, she could never see it again. She was _dying_. Or so she thought.

The pain had sabotaged every muscle of her body, hitting every nerve ending like a splash of freezing water. Her forearms ached, a twitching pain ran through their length and ended at the fingertips, making her feel as if her fingertips were spewing red hot magma. Soft pangs of pain hit her breastbone as her wobbling soul brushed against the fabric of her shirt or _his fur_.

“I swear if you die on me…I will find you, dismember you and then dump you in Tem Village!” His erratic breaths steadied as he held her higher, readjusting the grasp of his claws on her soft and penetrable back. His red streaked ivory fur wilted against his sweaty skin as he lumbered towards the large building before them. His muzzle was moist and his maw taut from all the exertion he had been subject to in the past few moments. He was not very accustomed to using his physical power in his plant form and so, it was pretty much of a task to get used to walking even, after he changed to his goat form.

It was draining. Physically as well as mentally. Transformations were never easy. And not in hell, pleasant. They felt as if every atom of his souls would spontaneously implode, every nerve of his body would tear open and every bit of his epidermis split open from the immense pressure of shape shifting. An grotesque mar of light lesions were left on his back every time he changed into _Asriel_. And changing back into _Flowey_ was worse. His body would absorb every kink of heat in the air, using it to fuel the endothermic reactions of SOUL magic. His form would then compress, like an empty metal can between a metric ton crusher, to a stubby seed and then, expand again into the familiar form of his flower self. It was horrendous. And it pained. It pained so fucking much.

_But he believed it would always pain less than a scalding beam of plasma showering over him._

So. He decided leaving _Helvetica_ and Roman to die out all alone…was not the _best_ of ideas.

“Ah…Asriel…change back to _Flowey_.” She managed to whisper, her vocal chords ached dully, “please.” She looked at him…looked at him with those eyes again.

He chuckled. A dry scornful one.

“ _Oh fuck no_.” He directed his gaze way from hers, shifting his weight from leg to another, trying to conserve as much as power to hold his humanoid form for a few more minutes, “Not in the name of the holy butt of Asgore no. If I turn back into a flower, I’ll only be able to hold one weight” he gestured to the crackling child on his back and then, to her, “and that would be my own.” He crisped.

“But you’re less of a jerk then.”

_He halted._

“See, brat. I’m tired. I’m pained. I’m confused and I’m _naked_.”

_Another perk of transformations._

“And I want to fling you.” He motioned to the child on his back, “both of you. Into that hot lava down below. So don’t…don’t piss me off now. Not when you pulled that stunt of invoking the game back there. I can take you back to your father and tell him all what you did. Right now.” He finished in a tone as dead as the silence that followed. A victorious warmth spread through his paws as he wallowed in the pause.

But not for long.

“Like that? Naked?”

_Argh! That bratty bitch!_

“That would just send all kinds of wrong signals to my dad. And not against me, I _assure_ you.” Her voice was laced with putrid amusement. And it made _Asriel_ sick. Her horrible voice reverberated against his eardrums. If not for his fear of being reduced to a pile of soot, she would have been severely mutilated where she stood. Or lay, for that matter.

He heaved a forced sigh, his claws digging into her soft, supple flesh as he glared straight ahead. The Lab was just a few meters ahead. And he was glad. He had enough of that brat and all her shenanigans…for now. He could take care of her once they figured out what _actually_ happened.

With a tentative push of his primary claw against her wobbling soul, he pushed it inside. Letting it vanish beneath the mantle of her thick woolen sweater.

The closer he got to the shining metal door, the more he felt his energy flicker in and out, like the flame of a candle desperate for oxygen. His vision was blurring and his legs felt weaker. But it was too early now. He had lasted much longer in the past. Much, much longer. Whatever the reason for the quick burn out, he could not let it occupy his mind for long.

Placing the Teen baggage on the ground and the child beside her, he let his knees sink to the ground.

Inexplicit transformations were more taxing than explicit ones. Not physically, but mentally. They usually involved characteristic traits bleeding out first, fading away so fluidly. It felt like one was loosing their sanity, loosing themselves into a hallucinatory void that only materialized in the deepest of nightmares. His maw clenched from the palpation and pain that coursed down slowly to his hind paws.

 _Helvetica_ looked at him, concern weaving through her gaze as she pat his head in a slightly awkward fashion. Roman, carefully observing the older mutant’s action, mimicked. Placing his small, warm palm on his muzzle, he let out a soft cry of.. _.pain?_ _Helvetica_ just continued her patting.

And before she knew it, he was gone. Replaced by the more non-hostile flower.

“Uh…you okay there, _bud_?” _Helvetica_ inquired, restraining an excited Roman in one hand and racking through her backpack with the other, “I thought you were going to _leaf_ us all alone.”

_Flowey groaned._

He could make out her lousy puns even through his horribly splitting headache. Most transformations left a nasty residual headache, and this one was no different. Shaking off the woozy feeling in his head, he looked beyond _Helvetica’s_ petite shoulders.

_The Lab._

“Well. We are here.” His declaration held soft undertones of relief, “ _finally_.”

Turning around on her knees, she looked at the metal entrance that towered over her figure, making her look unusually small. A wave of satisfaction washed over her. They were finally there. Safe. Sound. And a little less hostile.

It was almost weird how no Anomaly even careened past their paths. The Anomaly was pretty… _omnipresent_. How had they just not stumbled into one? For beings as sensitive to energy signatures that they spotted a Whimsum a _hundred_ miles away, the Anomaly sure was not keeping up well with its reputation that day. For sure. They must have sensed her energy when she touched the save point? But then again, they could have limits to their power…they could…something halted her train of thought, making it crash against the insides of her brain. She winced inwardly. She hated when someone interrupted her mental deliberation.

Her eyes landed on Roman, who was busy dragging Flowey to the door, mumbling inane words meshed with a frequent giggle. Well. They had to go.

And go, they did.

Not to the lab.

_But to hell._

* * *

  
A hand cupped the little child’s mouth as they moved through the dimly lit corridors of the Lab. The long tube lights on the ceiling flickered, cold air seeped through the small cracks in the wall and the floor buzzed from the CORE’s machinery. A horrid foreboding hung over _Helvetica’s_ neck, like a guillotine blade ready to slice through her pretty neck.

And she was not the only one who felt the close proximity of a possible execution.

 _Flowey_ gulped. His androecium wrinkled in disgust as they neared their destination. He could smell murk…mucous and…sweet lemons? Not wanting the familiar memories to surface up inside, he breathed deep and held it in. Wanting to save that one breath of fresh air for what may lie inside. Roman laughed, poking at the sides of his bloated androecium.

 _Helvetica_ pushed her forearm against the button on the side of the reinforced glass door. And the door opened with a swift zap. That lab and her lab back home were not very different. Certainly not very different in the lighting. She gazed ahead at where once stood the door.

The metallic algae green faded softly into the void beyond the glass doors. One could even see the threatening red if they squinted enough.

_The elevator._

Soon they would be there.

_Soon._

* * *

 

 _Thankfully_. The Lab was empty.

Darkness sat over the metallic work tables, so still and silent. On the algae clad walls, bright red pins held up meticulously arranged blueprints, maps and graphs way beyond the _Helvetica’s_ mental league. W.D Gaster must have been brilliant. _Helvetica_ could only imagine what it would have been like with him working in the same lab she stood in. Working with such an extraordinaire. He could have so much to learn from, so much to practice under. The soft warmth of a familiar feeling trebled inside her **_SOUL_**.

Knowing that one day she could meet the amazing scientist, _filled her with **DETERMINATION**._

Her eyes wandered around the lab as she loitered forward. As she moved deeper into the unending lab, a deep blue light sparkled in the distance. A hum tore through the deafening silence and it seemingly came from the source of light.

“Hey guys. Check that out.” She quickened her pace, reaching out for the light. Its luminosity increased with her every step.  
  
“Is that…”

Her heart raced as she skidded to a stop in front of the humongous spherical machine nestled in the corner.

_The source of the light._

The blue glow from the machine was littered with the yellow and red dots of light that were scattered haphazardly along the flaky metal cover. Lines of red and yellow ran around the girth of the capsule, wedges and folds riddled the metallic sphere. It was humming softly, making the floor buzz from the turbulence.

“The Time Machine.” _Helvetica_ veered closer to the buzzing machinery, letting her fingertips graze against the uncannily warm metal. The machine had been in use.

_‘Welcome to the Nuclear Space Exploration Entity, AKA, NSEE workshop. I am the Neohuman Travel Emulator. How may I be of assistance?’_

_Helvetica_ almost jumped, _Flowey_ flinched and Roman just giggled.

“An AI! We could ask it about the machine…!” The older teen whispered to the Ranunculus.

“I’m don’t think…we should go back before someone finds us…” _Flowey_ did not want to get disintegrated into fine dust if anyone were to find them there. They were intruders.

Intruders with not very… _moral_ motives.

Only thing _Flowey_ could do was wish.

_Wish they were the only ones down there._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. As always, leave a comment if you feel inclined to!


	6. Broken Reminiscences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the extent of Sans' mental stability is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! This one is short but, yeah. Hope you guys like it! if you do, don't forget to leave a comment! or a kudos <3

A tug at his weakened **_SOUL_ ** was what had woken the blue skeleton from his troubled slumber.

Sleep had never come easy before, save a few times when he snuggled his skeletal form deep into his warm mates’ arms; even before the _Anomaly,_ Sans had found himself wide awake during midnights, as if on high alert. While he had thanked stars for his _eye_ for uncanny attention to detail, he had not been quiet as pleased to not be able to surrender his fatigued body to a good nights’ rest. He had stayed up countless of nights, stroking his sons’ unusually unkempt mane or staring at a sweating Frisk tussle in her blankets, whimpering in pain.

It was funny how he had never made any attempts to rouse his mate from her nightmares, he had just watched her writher in mental agony, clutching around for familiarity to hold on to and sob when she found none. He had often snuck away his carpals from her grasp, just to watch her mewl in terror, to watch her face twist in pain and their shared, dense, purple magic to shroud her form. She looked so absolutely stunning then; wrapped away in a veil of his tainted magic, sweating and curling in on herself in sheer fear, her marked **_SOUL_** thrumming rapidly against her ribcage, making her bosom glow a soft and inviting light cyan. He had loved watching his magic swirl inside of her, and even more so when she manifested it unintentionally.

He had absolutely no idea when his mental state took the sadistic turn.

The line between admiration and obsession had been agonizingly thin and inconsequential for Sans when he had first bound his **_SOUL_** to the determined human. Toriel had good-naturedly assured him that his baffling pull to the human was justifiable, and had even, albeit flushed facedly, asked him to bate his desires for the human, for she would be able to handle only so much of his presence inside of her. The assurance made by his punny friend, perhaps, only acted as a sorry excuse Sans rushed to whenever he found himself forcing Frisk against her will to do whatever it was he desired. Frisk, as always, had always let him off, and had complied with all his demands with a kind smile that made his **_SOUL_** pound with such filthy possession that it made him _sick._ Her forgiveness and Papyrus’ absence (The latter opting to live with the lonely Lost Queen.) actively fueled his _bad habits_ ; stuffing away all the morals in the back of his head, he un-weighed himself, feeling the fresh breath of freedom in a long while; _a really long while_.

In fact, it had been so long that he had almost forgotten what freedom actually felt like, what it was like to be free, to not be dictated by externals, only by ones’ own. And so, he started; _started_ exploiting what came of his newfound freedom’s wake.

And Frisk had always been so nice… _so nice and kind_ , she had always forgiven him with a comforting hug, putting him under the illusion that he could do whatever he want, she would always take him back. And it turned worse when he realized that she would not deny him. And even worse when he was sure she **_could not_** deny him. After all, there was no one else she could scamper off to, and Sans knew that so well, it was not long before he started using the same for _his_ benefit.

And he had enjoyed that; exploiting her; not a slight trace of remorse had laced his emotions. He was just enjoying his _freedom_ , something he had longed for _long enough_.

 All was remotely well ( _for him, at least.)_ until that one instance, the one instance that caused an unfixable rift in his and the fallen humans’ bond.

Sans could vividly recall each and every string of that incident, the memories etched into calcified cranium.

_“S-Sans…” Her voice was so feeble, so weak and wary from the lack of usage. Her body curled up in a fetal position cushioned over the soft snow that had been soiled with the crimson of her blood. Her knuckles were as white as her surroundings, gripping the coarse twig so tightly, “I swear…I d-didn’t kill that F-Froggit…I-I’m s-sorry…” And yet again, her voice was so petty, so fragile, and so sorry for something even she knew she had not done._

_Like it always had been._

_And Sans had loved it so much, he had loved her submission to no ends._

_The warm blue and yellow of his light eye blazed brightly, washing a soft glow over the petite woman’s pale face, “kid.” He breathed huskily, the cyan blaze seeping out from his **SOUL** and through his grey shirt, creating a fading wave front of blue radiance in its wake. He could feel his **SOUL** thrum sporadically, as if fuzzed with an insatiable desire. He needed her._

_“Sans…I swear! I would never do such a thing-g!” She still struggled, the angled rocks behind piercing into her soft back._

_“Kid.” He tried, gritting his canines in attempts to bate his carnal instincts, his **SOUL** ’s thrumming had slowly phased into desperate pangs and loud rings, “shush.” His bones popped as he crouched to the smaller woman’s level, his digits gently stroking her flushed cheeks. The glow from his grey shirt had intensified, plummeting the stout skeleton’s mind into a raze of lust and intoxication. _

_And as he expected, she leaned into his touch, the dirty aquamarine glow from her tarnished **SOUL** enunciated her soft features. And that was it for Sans. _

_All his restraints felt like a fleeting memory as he forcefully gnashed his razor sharp teeth against her soft, supple lips._

_“S-Sans-!” the prominent blush on her face deepened as she felt his phalanges grip and squeeze her arms with such force, “S-Sans…please stop-p…”_

_But he paid her no heed. She was supposed to comply with all his physical needs; she was his mate for stars’ sake!_

_His boney digits dug into her frostbitten arm, making her wince in pain._

_“shush, kidddo.” He breathed, leaning away to admire her shivering form, “consider this your punishment.” A malicious smirk pulled up on his jaws._

_“B-But I did nothing-g wrong!” she croaked, her quivering arms pressed against his ribs weakly, “I swear!”_

_“i know.” He quipped in a childlike manner; their shared lavender magic had cascaded over their bodies, shimmering under the pseudo-lights of the sky like sprinkled stardust._

_She clenched her wrists beside her, “b-but how could you know I didn’t kill it…?”_

_His grin widened as he tightened his grip on her flimsy wrists, his form fizzed slightly. She knew this move all too well; he was going to teleport them._

_He closed up on her form, bringing his jaw closer to her ears, he whispered._

**_“Because I did.”_ **

And that was, perhaps, when he discovered he was not all right in the head.

He had done unspeakable things to the human then. He had forced himself on her countless times in the span of that one week, and had even indulged in taboo practices that not only scarred his mates’ mind but also affected her health to a significant extent.

He clearly remembered the blank stare she held when Alphys giddily told her of the little baby-bones she had conceived. She had not seemed happy, not sad, not terrified, not pained…just nothing. She just sat there staring at metal desk in front of her. And that was when the short skeleton felt his _sins crawling on his back. He had to apologize._

Frisk being Frisk, forgave him not long after he had started begging for apologies, she had even faintly _smiled_ at him, asking him to start over; asking him to not **_RESET_** , but _reset_.  

And he gladly had.

But threads once severed, were never mended. And a devil once claimed, could not be recalled.

No matter how hard he tried to evade his sick self, he could not help but cave into the same once in a few weeks. With each desire he almost gave into, he pushed Frisk away. He did not want to hurt her innocence (if she had any left.) more than he already had. And maybe it was for the best. He had to maintain his distance lest he hurt her again.

Before his thoughts could plunge him into another round of self-depreciation, a horrid headache settled in. The pain was starkly similar to the one he was awarded with when Frisk **_RESET_**. His skull immediately snapped to his side-to the bed.

And to his immense relief, he saw Frisk curled up into a ball, fast asleep. Her arms draped over to the _empty_ side of the makeshift mattress. She had not **_RESET_**. Feeling the leather pouch in his pocket with his other hand, he sighed. Pappy was safe as well.

He ran his cold carpals over his sweaty forehead. His heart ached. He had not said much to anybody after…after Papyrus…

Not like anybody had tried to talk to him either. He had not returned to the lab after his brief meeting with Toriel, deeming it best to avoid his biological father in every sense. He would deal with Gaster later, but for now, he had to deal with the splitting headache that dominated his commonsense. Something was certainly very wrong, and he could not place it.

He felt the hard tug again.

 An involuntary gasp left his mouth, his phalanges tracing the dips between his primary ribs, gently grazing over his quivering **_SOUL_**. His eye-lights instinctually ran over his family, his hands reaching to feel his brother’s dust.

That is when he noticed.

The _empty_ bedside.

His son.

_Roman._

* * *

 

_Helvetica._

_Fell Sans’_ eye socket blazed dangerously as he shot up from his more relaxed composure, the tugging at his **_SOUL_** getting harder by the moment.

His eyes instinctually darted to the unmade bed on the floor and then to the now empty floor where once that idiotic weed had rested.

_Empty. Both of those spaces._

A low guttural grumble left his throat as he summoned his deep, crimson magic, ready to teleport to his maniacal _fathers’_ lab.

_They had done fucked up this time._


End file.
